


Smut from Chapter 8 of Zahrar

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [45]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: I'm leaving this up as part of Dworin week '17, but it will be edited and consolidated into the main fic





	

**Author's Note:**

> The smuts!

Sliding his own hands underneath Thorin’s waistband, Dwalin fiddled with the laces on his breeches, strained as they were with his need. Thorin’s teeth found his throat, biting at his jugular and making Dwalin moan loudly. Making quick work of the knots by tearing the laces in half, Dwalin freed his prize, swallowing it hungrily. Thorin’s head thudded back against the mattress, hips bucking further into the hot wetness of Dwalin’s mouth. When the warrior’s big hands finally managed the task of pulling down the king’s breeches, he turned his attention to Thorin’s thighs, covering the softer skin in beard-bristly kisses.

“Thorin,” he mumbled, savouring the taste of clean sweat and musk. Thorin’s hands were scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders, fisting the fabric of his tunic and pulling Dwalin back on top of him. He delivered several biting kisses to his Kurdel, who moaned happily when each kiss was rewarded by an ardent thrust of hips up against his own straining need.

“You are wearing far too many clothes, amrâlimê.” Thorin huffed against Dwalin’s mouth, even as his clever fingers began undoing buckles and untying laces. “You should take them off.” Dwalin could only nod, pleasure-clumsy hands joining Thorin’s attempts at divesting him of his garments. The clothes quickly landed on the floor, unheeded in their frenzied passion. With a mighty heave, Thorin flipped them, looking down at Dwalin with a smirk as he rubbed himself against the big warrior.

“Fuck, **_nudunruksu_** _ **[1]**_ _!_ ” Dwalin growled, running tattooed hands over Thorin’s well-defined torso. “Want to ride me, eh?” he grunted, but Thorin shook his head, moving between Dwalin’s legs and spreading them with a mischievous grin. “Oh, ohh, tha’s alright too,” Dwalin could not help but groan at the first touch of Thorin’s tongue. After so long, the king knew just how to make him emit the most embarrassing sounds and Dwalin could only lie there and whimper into his arm as Thorin began systematically taking him apart. That naughty tongue would skate over his skin, lap at his furry balls and spear into his depths, tickling the rim of his hole until Dwalin begged for mercy. But mercy would not be granted, Dwalin knew, until Thorin was satisfied with the way he had tormented his guard into perfect mindless need. Only then, when Dwalin was so far gone he would beg for anything, would Thorin think of mercy.

Thorin grinned. _This was the sight he loved best in the world_ , he thought. Dwalin was splayed out beneath him, boneless and whimpering in pleasure and need. Slicking his cock, he nudged the thoroughly loosened muscle that hid such pleasure. Dwalin nearly howled. Sliding inside the big warrior for the first thrust was always the most exquisite feeling, and Thorin prayed it would never lose the ability to make him speechless. When Dwalin’s leg wrapped around his hip, forcing him to move, he could only groan, leaning down the pull on Dwalin’s beard with his teeth. Thorin chuckled, pressing his lips lovingly against Dwalin’s and thrusting in hard. The mewl of pleasure told him he’d got the angle right and he began relentlessly pummelling Dwalin’s prostate. This first coupling was always wild and hard, chasing the pleasure and release they both wanted. Dwalin’s hands were everywhere, tugging on chest hair, squeezing his arse, scratching his shoulders, and Thorin loved it. When Dwalin’s mouth found his nipples, the warrior bit down hard, making Thorin’s steady rhythm stutter. The grin on his face was eradicated soon, however, by Thorin’s hand wrapping around his turgid shaft and squeezing hard. Adding alternating strokes to his thrusts, Thorin was soon speeding them both towards explosive release. Bending down to deliver a kiss to Dwalin’s slackened mouth changed the angle, and the next stroke of Thorin’s hand earned him the long-desired eruption. The clenching of Dwalin’s insides around his own need sent a shot of bliss straight into his balls and the king came with a shout loud enough to wake – if not Smaug – at least most of their household as well as the two elves, who had silently agreed to ignore it when their keen ears picked up the first quiet moans from the King’s bedroom.

 

[1] You tease!


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